Longest Night
by Timetest
Summary: A series of events leading up to the tv series. John has his way with Dean when he was just 13 years old. TRIGGER WARNINGS- Self harm. Under age. Rape. Incest. Pedophilia. Drug abuse. Alcohol abuse. Manipulation. Suicide attempt. Sexual violence. Coarse language.
1. Destruction

Sam was 9 years old. He was clinging to his pillow, humming softly to himself. No songs, just noise.. Noise in attempt to block out his brother's cries, and his father's low angry mumbles. This is the second time John has taken Dean from their bedroom.. Sam was too scared to get up. Too scared to investigate the cause of Dean's suffering.

Dad will probably yell at him like last time.. What's going on..

. . .

Not an hour before, Dean was here holding Sam's outstretched hand in the dark, whispering about their day.  
 _'It'll get better, Sammy. We just need to stick it out a little longer,'_ Dean comforted, _'Dad's going on a hunting trip, soon.'_

Moments later, the door to their bedroom opened, a dull glow lit up the room from darkness. Dean closed his eyes as soon as he realized that they weren't alone anymore. Sam followed suit, closing his eyes tightly. They heard footsteps scuff the hard wood floor, stopping by Dean's side. Dean's hand squeezed around Sam's. Sam didn't let go.

A hoarse whisper broke the silence, ' _Let your brother's hand go, or you'll wake him up_.' His Father.. He was taking Dean away again.. Sam swallowed a hiccup.  
Clothes rustling from movement, and a whimper from Dean..  
' _Let him go. Now._ ' the voice hissed.

Sam felt his big brother's fingers slip out of his grip. He sat up without hesitation, 'Dean?'

Their father pushed Dean out the door behind him. He bent over Sam, _'Dean's just going on a walk with me, we'll be back real soon.'_ he whispered into Sam's ear, _'You go back to sleep. Don't get out of bed,'_ he warned.  
He kissed Sam's forehead, and turned to Dean, who was backed in a corner in the hallway looking terrified. Sam leaned around John to see Dean looking back at him, and up at John. Dean made a split decision to make a run for it. He dug his toes into the wood panels and took off down the hallway. John cursed under his breath. He stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him with a clunk.

Dean's adrenaline made his head swim. He ran to the lounge, taking steps in every direction looking for a place to hide.  
No, he couldn't hide. He needed to get out. He'll come back for Sammy. Dad won't touch Sammy.  
Dean stepped toward the front door and fumbled at the lock. His hands were shaking so bad.. ' _Please_..,' Dean breathed. The lock clicked. Dean let out a breath of relief as he turned the door handle.  
A fist flew past his ear and into the door, cracking the wood in on its self. Fear made Dean's knees buckle and his stomach knot. He curled up on the floor, burying his face in his elbow. Dean's fight or flight instincts kicked in at full force. He was trapped. Trapped in a prison with a monster. His body locked up and protected its self to the best of it's ability.

John's hands wrapped around Dean's waist and chest, lifting him effortlessly off of the floor. Dean stared wide eyed at the floor, watching John's legs walk him into his bedroom across the hall. The smell of John's room was disgusting. Like moldy carpet, sweat, cigarettes and musky alcohol.  
John placed Dean on his bed, face down, Dean's face still tucked into his elbow.  
Dean felt his father's hands at his pants, undoing the pull string of his pajamas. Dean's eyes widened, instincts pulling into fight. He jolted his arms down and clutched onto his waistband trying desperately to keep his pants up by his hips. Dean clenched his teeth, 'Dad,' he grunted, 'stop,' he pulled one of his knees up for leverage.

John pinched the back of Dean's arm, causing Dean let go of his waistband with a yelp, 'Above your head,' John commanded, tapping at Dean's wrists.  
Dean's lip trembled, 'I don't want to- I don't want to do this,' Dean stuttered, turning to look up at John, 'I don't want to.. It hurts.'  
John stared blankly down at his son in response. Waiting.  
Tears blurred Dean's vision. He complied, folding his arms above his head, hugging his elbows.

John continued at Dean's pajamas, pulling them off with ease.  
'Please, Dad..,' Dean begged.  
John rolled Dean over and ran his hand up the inside of his son's thigh. Dean's hands shot down and pushed John's hand away. 'I don't want to!' Dean yelled, 'Let me go!'  
John pulled his fist back and jolted it in a mockery.  
Dean gasped as his hands shot up to protect his face.

'Keep 'em there,' John ordered, caressing Dean's thigh once more. - _no_ \- Dean thought, ' _It's not right_!' He pulled his ankles up, and locked his knees together, kicking at John hard in the chest.

John fell backwards, stumbling off of the bed. Dean took his chance, heart racing, he rolled off of the bed and stood beside it, ready to run, 'Why are you doing this to me?' Dean cried,

John caught his breath, 'Because,' he breathed, stepping around the bed, 'I've got no one else, Dean. No one but you.'  
Dean made a break for it. He leapt onto the bed toward the door.

John threw a punch mid-air, his fist connecting with the outside of Dean's thigh, giving him a dead leg. Dean let out a sob, crumpling onto the bed. John clambered over the top of his son and pried his knees apart, pulling Dean's shaken body toward him.

'The more we do this,' he leant over Dean and kissed his chest, 'the more fun, and easier it will be.'  
He spat on his finger and slid it all the way into Dean's ass. Dean squeezed his eyes closed, gasping and bucking away from the sudden intrusion, but to no avail. John pressed his body over Dean's, immobilizing him. He continued sliding his fingers in and out of his son's abused body, grinding against him heavily.

'Stop.. Ah, Stop..' Dean panted, trying to catch his breath,

John leant in and breathed against Dean's neck, 'Such a good boy..,' the smile in John's tone made Dean cringe. His breath smelled like alcohol.

John paused, shifting his weight to allow his other hand to "explore". He ran his free fingers along Dean's chapped lips, and placed them in his mouth. Dean gagged at the taste of metal and salt on his father's fingers. 'Suck on them for me,' John breathed dryly.  
Dean looked into John's eyes and ran his tongue over his fingers, with tears streaming down the sides of his face.  
John removed his finger from Dean's ass. Dean pushed at his father's sweaty chest, attempting to stop the situation once more.

'Keep sucking,' John growled. Dean closed his eyes, running his tongue over John's fingers.  
John replaced the empty feeling in his son's ass with his cock. Dean's eyes snapped wide open as he screamed into John's hand, biting down hard from the intense pain.  
Wasting no time, John pulled his son's ankles up into his chest and started pumping him deep into the stained mattress.  
Dean tried to swat at his face, but John caught his hand and pinned it above his head.  
Dean groaned as he strained against his father's weight. He couldn't move at all. It felt like his insides were on fire. It felt like he was being fucked by a baseball bat.

'Oh Dean..,' John moaned, 'You're so tight,' he removed his fingers from Dean's mouth and kissed him, not bothering to swallow the desire in his saliva. Dean spat back at John's lips, only creating more fluid between them.  
John reached down and stroked Dean's flaccid member.  
Dean flinched away from the sudden interest. He clenched his teeth, and pushed at his father's hips in vain. He couldn't breathe. The room was spinning. 'Please..'

John was grunting with every thrust. Sweat was beading and dripping off of his hair onto Dean's bare skin. His fingers dug into Dean's thighs, his hips rammed into Dean's ass harder and faster as he reached his climax, his throbbing cock filling Dean's ass with his orgasm. 'Dean-' John gasped, _'Dean, oh, Dean_...'

John pulled out and sat upright on his knees, smiling down on Dean's shaken, marked body.

Dean curled in on himself, rolling to the side so that he could breathe. His body burned. He was sticky, hot, and exhausted from the fight.  
John leant forward, brushing his fingers through Dean's hair, 'did you like that, Dean?' he breathed, 'Do you know how much I love you?'

Dean cringed away from his father's touch, unable to say a word.

'Dean,' John took a fistfull of Dean's hair, pulling him up onto his elbows in front of him. Dean let out a cry as his head was spun around.  
'Dean, I need you to know,' John pushed his cock against his son's lips, 'I need you to know how much I love your body,' John insisted, 'Open your mouth, son.' Dean turned his head away.  
'I said open your fucking mouth,' John demanded. He grabbed Dean's cheeks and squeezed them hard into his teeth until his jaw opened, He slid his cock into Dean's mouth in one fluent motion, thrusting down his throat.

Dean started sobbing. He couldn't see.  
His hands pressed at his father's hips to try to pull his head away, but John had a good hold of his hair. Each thrust cut off his air supply. The taste was disgusting. He could taste his father's orgasm.. Himself.. And he hasn't seen John shower in about a week..  
He gagged. His muscles constricted around John's cock.  
'Oh, God.. Dean, do that again..' John panted, thrusting deep into his throat, cutting off his air supply completely. Dean started gagging again. Convulsing.  
His hands slipped from his father's hips, the desperate thrusts ragdolling his limp body. Once more, John bucked hard into his mouth, holding the position. Dean felt the cum slide down his throat.

'Dean..' John moaned, releasing the merciless grip he had on Dean's hair.

Dean let himself fall backwards onto the bed. He couldn't move. He just shook uncontrollably, unable to stop himself crying.

'That was.. Really good, Dean. I'm so proud of you.' John rested his hand on Dean's head.  
If Dean had fight in him, he would have shied away from the touch. But his energy was drained. He wondered how he was still breathing.

The same voice cut into his thoughts like a bullet through glass, 'you're going to have to stay here tonight,' John soothed, 'Sammy will wonder why you're so tired.' He lifted Dean's limp body into his arms, and held him close under the sheets. His half flaccid cock slid in between Dean's ass cheeks. 'Mmm, that feels good..' his cock twitched.

Dean's breath hitched.  
John was moving his hips slowly, 'I think you should stay home tomorrow. I could use your help around the house..' he entered Dean's raw ass again and sighed, 'We could use more practice, too.'

Dean squinted his eyes, straining to fight once more. He pushed at his father's hand around his waist, 'No..' Dean released himself from the hold and attempted to crawl away.

John smiled and pulled him back, thrusting all the way in. The warm wet tightness surrounding his cock once more.  
Dean let out a strangled cry and went into shock from the abuse in his system. John rubbed his back gently, 'You're such a good boy.'


	2. Rush

Dean awoke groaning. His body ached all over. His eyes burned. He rubbed at them weakly, taking a shaky breath in.

As he became more alert, his senses picked up- he wasn't alone. He leaned his body, glancing up at his father.

John stood over him ominously, holding a glass. 'Here..'

Dean looked away immediately, his eyes searching for a safe place as he braced himself for the oncoming attack from his abuser.

John swirled the beverage around in the glass, lowering it into Dean's view, 'Whiskey. It does wonders for pain.'

John smiled as he watched Dean's shaky bruised arm emerge out of the covers, reaching for the glass. Dean took the glass from his father, propped himself up on his elbow and gulped it down. He didn't pay any mind to the alcohol burning down his throat.  
John took the glass from Dean's hand and roughly petted Dean's back in approval, 'you'll feel better in no time,' John confirmed, 'i'll let you get dressed,'  
Dean eyed his father walking out of the room with disgust. How could he pretend that this was fine? Or normal? Did that really happen last night?

He pulled himself up out of the bed, pain shooting through his body. It must have happened.. He ran his hand through his hair, preparing himself to stand.  
The front door opened and closed. John must be going out somewhere. Dean pulled his pajamas on and limped out of the room, steadying himself against the door frame of the hallway. He leaned forward, gazing out the window.  
All John's gear was packed and he was outside loading it into the truck.  
Fear struck Dean's stomach. What was John planning? Was Dean going with him? Was Sammy going? He didn't want to go. He bit the inside of his cheek, drawing blood. He couldn't go with his father. It'd kill him. John had packed the truck. He turned toward the house, out of view of the window.  
'no, no, no, no...' Dean braced himself against the door frame, tears burning at his eyes.

John entered the house, glancing up at Dean before grabbing a bag off of the couch, 'I dropped your brother at school, you've got to pick him up,' he grabbed at another bag, 'then you're both to stay in the house until I get back. I'll be gone for a couple of weeks,' John tapped his fingers on a post-it note by the phone, 'There's numbers on this paper. If you need anything, you call them. If I don't come back, call the last number.'

Dean walked into the kitchen, peering down at the numbers. He eyed Bobby's name at the bottom of the short list.

John stepped toward Dean and lifted his chin with his fingers backing him into the wall. He breathed hot thick air over Dean's face seductively, 'If you leave, i'll find out,' John pressed himself against Dean's frame, stopping his son from turning away, 'and God help you if you're not here when I get back.' He leant in, his face was inches away from Dean's, 'do you hear me, Dean?' John's voice was low and threatening.

Dean snapped his eyes closed, voice trembling, 'Yes, Sir..,'

John turned and left without another word.

Dean dragged himself to the bathroom, staggering down the hall. He turned on the shower faucet and stepped into the scolding water. Steam filled the small room quickly. Dean pulled a coarse, bristled brush out from underneath the basin next to the shower and started scrubbing his arms, his stomach, his ass, his neck, his back, his legs, his shoulders.. As hard as he could stand.  
He used a full bar of soap, scrubbing at his skin until it was red raw. Scrubbing until it bled.  
It wasn't coming off.. The stain, the filth.. Dean grit his teeth in a panic. He was still dirty, he needed to get clean. He stuck his fingers down his throat and threw up until he was dry wrenching. He brushed his teeth until his gums bled. The whole process took him almost all day.

Dean awoke from the cold water rushing over his body. He gasped and shut off the faucet. He must have lost consciousness. He was exhausted.  
He grabbed at a towel hanging on a hook behind the door and threw it over his head. He wiped at his hair and his face slowly, feeling his features lightly from beneath the cloth.  
He entered his and Sam's room and found some fresh clothes. He struggled pulling his jeans over his hips, the denim cut into the bruises. He pulled on a shirt and a hoodie, and lastly slipped his feet into his boots, not bothering to tie the laces. He was late picking Sam up from school. He snatched the key off of the hook by the door and made his way down the street toward the school.

Sam was wandering around the yard, kicking at rocks that fell out of the garden beds. 'Sammy?' Dean called to him, 'Sorry i'm late,'  
Sam's head shot up at his name. He ran to Dean, clinging around his big brother's stomach when he reached him. It knocked Dean back a couple of steps, 'Ah, gentle, Sammy.'

Sam released Dean and looked up at him with a hard look in his eyes, 'I don't want to go back there, Dean.'

Dean glanced around the school yard, eyeing off the kids walking home, assessing the proximity between himself and them. He started walking. The place was too crowded to talk openly, 'Dad's gone away on a hunting trip,' he uttered casually, 'he'll be back in a couple of weeks-,' Dean paused and turned back, noticing that Sam wasn't walking with him.

'No.. That's not good enough,' Sam was shaking with anger, 'I don't know what happens when he takes you, Dean..'

Dean blinked. 'What?' Dean noticed some woman slowing her pace as she overheard. He quickly closed the gap between them to avoid anyone else overhearing,

'But I know he hurts you,' Sam continued, 'and I don't want him to do it anymore.'

Dean rolled his eyes and adjusted the sleeves on his hoodie, the autumn wind picking up fiercely, 'Shut up! You don't know what you're talking about, Sam,' Dean glared down at his brother, 'he's our provider, we would be dead without him. Remember that, before you open your big mouth.' Dean turned his back and started walking again.

Sam breathed loudly out of his nose and started walking straight past Dean, 'I'm gonna call Uncle Bobby,' Sam declared,

Dean scoffed, 'Go ahead!' Dean raised his arms and dropped them, 'he'll tell you to shut up, too. You don't know what's going on, don't pretend that you do- ah,' Dean held his side, slowing himself back down to a limp.

'Do you know what's going on?' Sam retorted, picking up his walking pace.

. . .

Sam pulled his key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. He threw his bag across the room and picked up the phone, eyeing Bobby's number on the post-it note. Dean was out of breath when he huffed into the house. He kicked his boots off and slid onto the couch, hugging the cushion under his head.

'Uncle Bobby?, Uh yeah, it's Sam,'

Dean pulled at a thread in the cushion, attempting to focus his concentration on that. This was not a call for help. This is not a big deal. He could handle this. He could keep Sam safe without any assistance. He is the soldier. He is the grunt. He'll take it all. It's his fight.

Sam's voice broke Dean's distraction, 'no, it's just Dean and me.. Yeah, a hunt.. Today..,'

Sam glanced across the room at Dean, 'He hurt Dean.. Yeah, last night, he took him to his room.. I.. I don't know.. Sure,'

'Dean,' Sam held the phone out to Dean, staring at him intently, 'Bobby wants to talk to you,'

Dean winced as he crawled off of the couch to his knees. Resting his body made it stiffen up fast. He crawled into the kitchen and swiped the phone out of Sam's hand.

'Bobby? ..Yeah..' Tears blinded Dean as they welled. 'No, I-'

'I can't tell you-' Dean's voice hitched. He wiped at his mouth as the tears fell silently, 'okay,' he choked, 'okay, i'll get him ready,'

Dean pressed his hand over his face and sniffed back fluid as he hung up the phone.

Sam pulled him into a hug, 'he won't hurt you again, Dean.'

Dean exhaled and clung to his brother.

. . .

Bobby was there that night. He pulled up at their house a couple of hours after the call. He honked the horn and stepped out of his car, eyeing off the boys as they emerged from the house. Sam was pulling at two duffle bags, and Dean was struggling with a back pack. Bobby grabbed all three bags off of the boys and loaded them into the trunk of his car. 'Now, you kids strap yourselves in. It's going to be fine now. We will work this out, alright?'

Sam nodded at Bobby, 'thank you, Bobby,'

Dean buckled himself in to the front seat, and Sam took up the back. Bobby nodded to himself and took off down the highway. Something was up. Something bad. And he intended to find out what.

Dean was drifting off to sleep. He finally felt safe. Like a cage was over him, protecting him from his father. It was going to work out.. It has to be okay. "God help you if you're not here when I get back."

Dean gasped and clutched at his shirt collar. Bobby swerved at Dean's fast movements, 'Damn it, Dean..! You alright?'

Dean's knuckles turned white. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the window. 'God, help me..,' he breathed.


	3. All in Wait

After a few hours of driving, Sam and Dean arrived at Bobby's house. The lamp light shone down onto them as Bobby slowed his car.

Dean woke with a huff as he lurched forward in his seat. Bobby stepped out of the car and opened Dean's door. Dean unbuckled his seat belt and took a hold of Bobby's arm for leverage. Dean winced and squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, before looking up to Bobby's concerned face.  
Dean looked away, feeling the pity ooze from Bobby's stare. Bobby pulled Dean into a hug and kissed the side of his head, 'I'm so sorry, kiddo,' Dean nodded and started for Bobby's house. Bobby unbuckled Sam from his seat and guided him toward the house, 'I'll put your brother to bed, then we'll have a talk,' he whispered.

Dean held his arms out as he walked, nodding in agreement, focusing on the ground as the lamp light silhouetted his figure in front of himself, making his steps blind to the stray bits of metal and broken concrete.

Bobby emerged from the spare room and put the kettle on the boil. He turned toward the fireplace and stoked his fire with fresh logs, 'that'll be roaring in no time,' he said. He returned to the kitchen, throwing together ingredients for a hot chocolate. Handing the mug to dean, Bobby pulled out a seat and sat at the table opposite and ran his hand across his mouth in thought.  
They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, then Bobby apprehensively asked the question Dean had been dreading to answer, '..Could you tell me what happened? From the start?'

Dean tensed up at the question and picked at the bar code sticker still on his mug. He looked around Bobby's house, eyeing off old books and random ornaments. There was a lot of dust.

'Dean, I'm sorry,' Bobby sighed, 'but I am going to have to know so I can help you and your brother out. You're just kids-'

'He's done it twice now,' Dean interrupted aggressively, staring down at the mug, 'The first time he took me away from Sammy, I didn't even know what was happening. He just took me and-,' he snorted back fluid, he didn't even realize he started crying, '- and fucked me,'

Bobby's mouth opened in shock. He had a feeling, but he didn't know for sure, not until this moment. His stomach turned.

Dean clenched his teeth and continued, 'But the second time,' Bobby narrowed his eyes, taking in the evidence, 'he didn't just fuck me..' he looked up at Bobby's grimacing face, 'He made me suck his dick after. And then he fucked me again.. And again-' his voice broke, his head fell through his hands and banged hard on the table.

Bobby looked at Dean's bruised wrists, 'You put up a fight?' Dean nodded without lifting his head. He gave up trying to swallow, trying to wipe his eyes, and trying to sniffle. It wouldn't stop flowing.  
Bobby stood up and rested his hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean flinched away, and Bobby lifted his hand immediately, 'You rest up here, I'm going to get your stuff out of the car.' Bobby walked out of the room, wiping the tears off of his own face. No kid should ever have to go through such pain, especially from his own father.  
Dean didn't move. He couldn't move. A few minutes later, Bobby appeared, carrying everything Sam and Dean owned, dumping it outside the door of the spare room.

He walked back to the table and sat back down, 'What do you want me to do, Dean?'

Dean stared at his mug thoughtfully, 'Kill him,' he cleared his throat and swallowed, glancing up at Bobby, 'I want him to die.' He bit into his split lip, and blood started to pool in his mouth. He stood slowly from the table, lifted his shirt and tugged down on his pants a little, revealing patches of deep purple. Bobby's eyes widened as they swept over Dean's bruised body, unblinking. He had a feeling Dean wanted this of him.. And if that's what Dean wanted, he accepted.

His tolerance for rapists, child molesters, monsters.. He had no tolerance. He picked up his whiskey and took a sip, 'Okay.'

Dean slid the hot chocolate off of the table with a shatter and snaked Bobby's bottle from his hands. He gulped a few mouth fulls, setting the bottle back on the table with a thud, 'Okay.'

. . .

Two days had passed and Dean wasn't much different. But that was to be expected. Bobby watched him closely, pacing the study, tripping on his own feet. Bobby sighed and put on his hat. The kid had a lot on his mind. He needed something else to distract him for a while. Getting caught up in revenge eats a person up inside.

He called Dean out to his garage. 'How much do you know about cars, Dean?'

Dean shrugged his shoulders, 'I know a lot, I guess,'

Bobby smiled and tapped his hand on the sheet behind him, 'I got this old hunk of junk off of a friend of mine not too long ago,' Dean eyed the barely visible wheels underneath the sheet with interest, 'If you can clean this baby up, get her running, i'll let you keep her,' Bobby pulled at the sheet, revealing a black '67 impala.

Dean's stared questioningly at the car as he wiped his hand over the hood, 'I can keep it?'

'Of course you can,' Bobby tutted, 'but a car like this needs care and respect. Think you can handle it?'

'y-yeah,' Dean muttered, still fixated on the car,

'Alright,' Bobby rolled up the sheet and threw it next to Dean, 'I'll leave you to it,' Bobby smiled to himself as he walked back to the house.

Bobby made his way to his study and sat down in his chair. He poured himself a glass of whiskey. He knew the time was coming.. He knew what he needed to do to his friend. His trusted loyal friend. It's going to be a fight..

He was drifting off in his chair, when his phone rang. His heart jumped to his throat. He knew who it was.

'Yeah, Bobby here,' he stilled his breathing to sound as calm as possible.

'Bobby,' John's voice was thick, and panicked, 'Have you heard from them?' the phone crackled, 'My boys?'

'Yeah, they're safe and sound.. They got a bit freaked at your place, so I took 'em to mine.'

The line crackled and buzzed.

'Did Dean.. Could you put Dean on?'

Bobby narrowed his eyes, 'I have him working out back, but i'll tell him you called.'

'Go get him, will you? I'll wait.'

Bobby huffed, and set the phone down on the desk. He made his way out to the garage, and found Dean working hard under the hood. He cleared his throat to get Dean's attention. Dean wheeled himself out and looked up. He searched Bobby's face, 'What is it?'

Bobby rolled his eyes in agitation, 'Your father's on the phone, he wants to talk to you..'

Dean stood up faster than he wanted to. He held the cramp in his leg and walked quickly into the house. Bobby put his hand on Dean's shoulder, as he went past, 'Dean, we talked about this.. Play it cool, we want him to think everything's fine. You blow it, he'll be the one killing us.' Dean met Bobby's eyes with determination, and nodded hard. Bobby followed him into his study.

Dean took a breath and picked up the phone, 'Hello?,'

'How good is your hearing, Dean?' John's voice was as cold as ice.

Dean's stomach dropped, 'What do you-'

'I told you to not leave,' John spoke over the top of him, 'I told you. I gave you a fucking order, and you didn't follow through. What kind of son are you? You didn't even call me?'

Dean felt tears sting the corners of his eyes.

'..Did you mention our night to your Uncle Bobby?'

Dean clenched his teeth, and gripped onto the side of the desk, pulling himself together, 'No, Sir.'

'Did he ask?'

'No, Sir.'

The line buzzed, and Dean held it from his ear, swallowing hard.

'..That's good. At least you can keep that to yourself.. Now, get your ass back to that house. And Sammy, too. You take care of your fucking brother like you were told to. Be a man, Dean.'

'I need to stay, i've got a car I'm fixing-' his voice was quiet and broken once more.

'Are you talking back to me, boy?' John's voice was too much. Dean dropped the phone on the table and slid to the floor. Bobby picked up the phone, and heard John yelling into it,

'John, it's Bobby.'

'Get those boys back to their place, and forget they called, do you hear me?' John snarled,

Bobby was taken aback with John's tone. He'd never sounded so desperate before.. So.. Evil.

'Well if you don't mind me saying, I think they'd do well to stay up here with me, John. I don't mind having them about, it kinda clears the air for me.'

'I'll be there at 0, 500, and their shit had better be packed, out the front, and waiting. And you had better not interfere with how I raise my boys, Bobby.'

'John, I don't thin-'

'You don't have kids, Bobby, you don't know. You killed your wife before you could find out, you fucking idiot..'

The phone clicked, and the dial tone rolled through Bobby's head. He kept the phone to his ear, his mouth opening and closing, with no words coming out, and no one to hear them.  
He wiped at the tears on his face, 'What the hell..,' John had all the right information to throw back on Bobby when they fought. He was always a petty fighter with words. He knew how to hurt, and he did.

Bobby picked Dean up off of the floor, and held his face in between his hands, 'It's tomorrow morning. He'll be here tomorrow morning. 5am.'

Dean's look of determination appeared across his face and he nodded into Bobby's hands. His eyes flashed, and his mouth curled.

'I'm ready.'


	4. Truth

Bobby took a swig of his flask, before tucking it back into his shirt. He threaded a line of rope through the elaborate trap for John Winchester, his old friend.. He was like a brother to him. He would have done anything for him.. John loved his boys.. What the hell happened?  
He had to set up precautions to be in every way certain that John wasn't possessed.

He pulled the rope through the rung at the front door and placed a bucket of holy water on the wooden beam directly in the walking space. He trailed the rope back into his kitchen, and looped it on a chair.  
He took a step ladder with a bucket of paint, and painted a Devil's Trap on the roof of his porch.  
He rested a wire at the door, that he melted into iron. He had used it before, it made a nice lengthy whip. He went back outside and collected strips of iron off of the ground, and arranged a semi-circle boundary of it around the inside of his front door.  
Lastly.. He let his breath out slow, as he pulled a shotgun out of his cabinet. He clicked it open, sliding two rock salt rounds down the chamber, clicked the safety on, then slung it around his shoulder. His fingers slid along the barrel, staring at the floor. If he really is John.. He's a dead man. He opened his drawer, and grabbed a handful of shotgun shells and stuffed them into his pocket.

Dean was tapping the flat of his boot into Bobby's table leg. He glanced up at the clock that hung above the fireplace.. It's already 4am.  
He stood up, walked to his and Sam's room and peeked in. Sam was curled up with a book resting sideways in his hand, snoring softly. Dean smiled and backed out of the room.  
That kid's gonna be something, someday. He walked back to the table and sat down hard, resting his head on the table. He was tired. Tired of so many things. Bobby had explained that it could be possession that caused his Father to abuse him, and to keep his eyes open for the tell-tale signs. After all he had seen so far, he really hoped Bobby was right. He ran his fingers through his hair, resting them on top of his head. He loved his Father. Why the hell did it have to come to this? It wasn't fair. What the hell did he do wrong? He bit his lip, and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall.

Bobby stepped into the room a little while later and slumped into his chair. Dean could tell he was tired, too. Bobby took Dean's hand, and ran his thumb over Dean's white knuckles, 'You okay?'

'Yeah..,' Dean shrugged, 'I don't know.'

Bobby sighed and leant over to the cupboard, retrieving two glasses. He poured a shot of scotch into each, and slid one into Dean's hand. 'Calm your nerves and get into position. Remember what I told you, and we should be in the green.'

Dean held the glass to his lips and drank it down. The cuts in his mouth from chewing on it were on fire. He pulled a face and set the glass down in front of him. 'I wish none of this had happened..'

Bobby stood, and put his hand on Dean's shoulder, 'I'm sorry that it did,' he turned and faced the window.

'It's my fault..' Dean put his hands over his eyes, 'If I made myself clearer, I don't think it would've happened, I know it. If I just-'

Bobby stomped around the table in a huff, pried Dean's hands away from his face and bent down next to him, 'Don't you ever say that. None of this is your fault, Dean. None of it. You did nothing wrong.'

'But if I-' Dean broke down,

'Oh, stop it!' Bobby grabbed his shoulders and shook him, 'Don't do this to yourself. Don't do this, until we know what the hell is going on with John, do you hear me?'

Dean hiccuped and nodded, wiping at his eyes with his palms.

The sound of a truck rattled in the distance. Their stomachs knotted.

'Position, Dean,' Bobby ordered with a low voice. He turned to the clock and saw it tick over to 5am on the dot.

Dean slid onto his feet and brought the rope that was looped around the chair into his hands. The fibers prickled his fingers. He stood next to Bobby, who had his shotgun ready and was waiting behind the open front door.  
The engine on John's truck cut and the lamp outlined his figure, as he stepped out of his car and walked toward them.

The sound of his Father's boots walking in the gravel made Dean's ears ache. Every step, Dean felt his heart pump harder in his chest. John stopped just before the wood of the front of Bobby's house. The light of day crept over the hills, making everything give off a dull blue tinge.

'I see he told you after all,' John sneered at Dean's tear strained face, taking a step forward.

Bobby flicked the safety off, and stepped away from the door, 'Hell yeah he did. What the fuck is wrong with you, John? That's your boy! Your blood!'

John spat at the ground beside him, rolling his shoulders at the disgust in Bobby's tone, 'he's not my son. He's nothing,' he took another step forward. Dean flinched backwards as John leaned closer, 'You're nothing, Dean. You'll always be nothing. I regret you.'

Dean bent his head, and closed his eyes. John smiled in triumph.

Dean threw his hand out to his side and the holy water came crashing down onto John's body. He let out a startled yell and stumbled backwards, folding in on himself. Bobby looked over him desperately.. Come on.. Burning clothes, steam, pain, anything!

John's brow furrowed, and he held his arms. His body started shaking. The tense silence broke with dead laughter, 'You could have warmed it up, at least..'

Bobby's face hardened and he stepped in front of Dean, pushing the teenager behind himself, 'John..'

John stopped laughing and he looked up at him with a smirk, 'What, you thought I was some petty minor league demon?' he stepped into the door frame, causing Bobby walk Dean back further, but he stopped there. He gestured to the ground, and sighed, 'Ah..Iron..' He smiled thoughtfully.

'What was that, John?' Bobby swallowed, raising his eyebrows, holding his shotgun to his shoulder,

John leant his arm against the door lazily, and smiled.

'What the hell are you. You're not John.' Bobby gritted his teeth. Dean was out to the side of Bobby, staring intently at his Father's face.

John closed his eyes and rolled his head in his shoulders.

'Answer me, damn it, or so help me..' Bobby jostled his shotgun in his arm.

John stopped rolling his head, and faced them, slowly opening his bright.. Yellow.. Eyes.

'My name, you ask?' his face twisted into a grin, 'Azazel,' he bowed his head mockingly, before turning his focus on Dean, 'I killed your mumma,'

Dean's eyes widened, completely beside himself. He'd heard about this demon.. He knew what he had done.

'This body,' Azazel stretched his arms, continuing, 'I've never been in someone before, who wanted to drink, fight and fuck all day, as much as John does. John is a wonderful host.'  
'And now..,' he smirked, 'I'm going to destroy you both, whilst your daddy watches,' Dean and Bobby looked startled, 'Oh, yes.. He's still in here with me.. Say 'hello', John..'

He closed his eyes for a moment, then let out a strangled scream, falling to his knees. 'Get.. Get out of me!' he wept.

'Dad?' Dean jumped across the door threshold.

'Wait, Dean!' Bobby reached for his arm, but Dean was too fast.

'Dad..' Dean put his arm over John's shoulder, and leant down toward his face, 'Dad, I'm here,'

John turned and shoved Dean hard, sending him to the ground, 'Get back behind that door!'

Winded, Dean scrambled to his knees and started for the door.  
Azazel was fast. He gripped the back of Dean's jacket, and jerked him backwards into his arms. He sniffed into the back of Dean's ear, and smiled against his neck, 'I'm gonna fuck you raw,' he hissed, 'Your daddy wants to fuck you.'

'Get off of me!' Dean grunted under Azazel's grip, and kicked him in the shin. Azazel slid Dean's head into his arm.

'You won't be doing that, Aza..Whoever the hell you are. Not if I have a say in this,' Bobby stepped over the iron, and walked the shotgun up to Azazel's face.

The demon held his hand up, and the metal started to burn red hot in Bobby's hands. He yelled, dropping his gun to the floor. Azazel raised Bobby up the front wall of his house and the hunter started screaming in agony as his stomach bled through his shirt, dripping onto the wood below.

'No!' Dean pleaded, 'What the hell do you want?! You can have it! Just stop this!' Dean's voice cracked under his desperation. His fingers dug into Azazel's arm to keep himself from being choked.

Azazel slid his hand to the front of Dean's shirt and gripped onto his collar, pulling him in close, 'chaos..' He scrunched his nose with pleasure as he turned his attention back to Bobby, who had lost a lot of blood already, 'Death is a mercy..' he raised his eyebrows, considering his actions thoughtfully, 'It's also quite fun, if you're on the right side of the floor,' he held his free hand out to Bobby and his fingers closed slowly, making Bobby gasp for air, clawing at his throat.

'STOP!' a whip of iron flew into Azazel's neck.

Azazel dropped his hand, causing Bobby to crash to the ground in a heap. Sam was in the door way, breathing fiercely. He pulled his arm back, and struck the iron into Azazel's chest. The demon looked up. There was a neatly drawn Devil's trap above his head. He couldn't move. He reluctantly released Dean, who ran to Bobby's side and started applying pressure to his wounds. Bobby had fallen unconscious from the pain.

'Sammy, don't go near him! It's not dad!' Dean yelled,

Sam raised his book to his face with a shaking hand and began to read slowly, but strong; 'Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,' Azazel huffed and stood his ground behind the iron Sam held at him.

'Sam. What do you think you're doing?' Sam stopped and looked up at Azazel's look of anguish, 'You're going to exorcise your own Father?'

Sam shook his head, and glared at Azazel, 'You're not my father. He'd never hurt Dean. He protects us,' he held is book back up, 'Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii,'

Azazel frowned.

'omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica,'

'Now, Sammy.. You don't really think your brother is important enough to hurt me over him, do you?'

Sam nodded, and continued to read the words,

Azazel clenched his teeth, 'You're the chosen one! You're better than all of these fucking people, don't you understand?!' his voice was strained and desperate.

Sam's eyes ran over the last words in his book and looked into Azazel's eyes, 'Agni sanguine redemptis!'

Azazel recoiled and stumbled. He held his arms out to his sides, trying to gain balance. Dean looked back to Azazel just in time to see his mouth open, and a thick black smoke trail aggressively out of his Father's body and into the foggy morning air.

John collapsed with a sigh.

Sam stood vacant for a moment. His hands relaxed, letting the book and the iron fall at his feet. He blinked at the noise,

shocked out of thought, and ran to his Father's side.

'Dad?' he gripped John's arm and pulled him upright, leaning him against the porch pole.

John stirred, 'Get.. Go get Bobby. Go see if Bobby's okay..' he whispered, out of breath.

'Are you okay?' Sam searched John's eyes.

John stared at the ground in front of him, expressionless and unblinking. His mouth opened, but he said nothing else.

Sam ran over to Dean, who was still working over Bobby, 'Dean?'

Dean heard him step close, 'Sammy, I need you to call an ambulance, can you do that for me?'

'Yeah,' Sam affirmed, 'are you okay?'

Dean hesitated, breathing in slow. He nodded and turned, pulling Sam into a hug, 'you saved us, Sammy,' his voice was thick with emotion, 'go call an ambulance, okay?'

Sam swallowed hard and nodded. He ran into the house and picked up the phone.

Dean turned back to Bobby and held his hand, and squeezed it gently, 'Bobby, the bastard's gone..,' he sniffled, and wiped

his eyes with the back of his arm, 'Sammy saved us,' he choked out a laugh, 'Sammy,'

Bobby's eyes wandered around the area. His labored breathing was slowing down.

'Bobby?'


	5. Drowning

Sirens soon started wailing in the distance.

Sam had managed to get John off of the ground, and onto the couch inside. He pulled a blanket over him and left him to sleep, feeling uncomfortable to be alone around him.  
He walked outside and sat down next to Dean, who was holding onto Bobby's hand tightly.

'It's gonna be fine, Bobby,' Dean cooed, 'you hear that? Sam called the ambulance, they're close, okay?'  
Sam pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged his arms, watching the whurring light blink into view.

Three men stepped out of the ambulance, each holding medical bags. They rushed over to the porch and got to assessing Bobby's condition.

'What happened here?' one of them asked,

Dean opened his mouth, but the words escaped his lips. There was so much blood. Bobby..-

'We're going to have to move him, son. We need you to step back,' the EMT took a hold of Dean's fingers and started to pry his hand out of Bobby's, 'We need you to let him go, so that we can get him to the hospital, okay?'

Dean gasped, snapping out of his daze, 'I need to go with him,' Dean stumbled to his feet,

'1, 2, and 3,' the EMTs loaded Bobby onto the stretcher and headed toward the ambulance with Dean hot on their heels,

'I need to go with him,' Dean repeated urgently. The rush of everything around him sent his mind into a panic.

After loading Bobby into the ambulance, the driver turned to Dean, 'We are going to have to keep him in for a while, son. You're going to have to wait here..,' he looked up from Dean toward the house, eyeing Sam, who was still sitting on the porch with his knees tucked under his chin, 'Do you have someone to take care of you and your brother?'

Dean glanced back at the house, 'Our Dad's in there,'

The driver smiled, 'take care, alright?'

Dean scrunched up his face. He didn't want to stay here. He didn't want to be around John. He stood helplessly, watching the ambulance doors close without him.

'Dean,' Sam called to him from the porch,

Dean turned and scuffed his feet back toward the house. It took all of his will power to make his body walk back. He didn't want to.

The ambulance wooped and took off down the road.

Sam was looking through the same book he was reading earlier. The book that saved them from Azazel.

'Can I have a look at that, Sammy?' Sam nodded and handed the open book to Dean. He flicked through it briefly, skimming through the pages, 'Where did you get this?'

'Bobby's book shelf,' Sam answered lightly, 'there's books full of lore in there,' Sam continued, 'lore on stuff I didn't even know existed,'

Dean smiled at Sam's intelligence, 'you hang on to it, it's come in pretty handy, don't you think?'

Sam took it back and held it under his arm, 'I'm hungry,'

Dean's stomach rumbled, realizing he didn't remember the last time he or Sam had eaten. He rested his hand on Sam's back, 'come on, let's see what we can eat.'

Dean opened Bobby's cupboards, pushing jars and un-marked tins aside. Some potatoes rolled out of a sack that he nudged. He shrugged and pulled them out. Sam watched on, as Dean pulled drawers open, fumbling his way around Bobby's kitchen.  
While they cooked, Dean took the opportunity work on his car. He strode through Bobby's house, ignoring John, who was still asleep on the couch. Opening the back door, he made his way to Bobby's garage, feeling the cool air on his skin again. He set to work, pulling different parts out of the hood and inspecting them. He pulled a rag off of a hanger and checked the oil.  
Bobby said he'd appreciate his car a lot more if he himself did all the necessary work. He took the advice.

A timer buzzed through the house, making Dean's stomach rumble again. The potatoes were done. Dean walked back into the house and pulled them out of the oven. He set the table and called for Sam.  
Sam emerged from Bobby's study with another book in his hand and a keen smile on his face as he sat at the table, picking up his fork.

They were on their second, or third, when John walked into the kitchen. He leaned his back against the bench, stretching.

Dean tensed up, eyeing his movement whilst continuing on with his meal.

'That'd taste better with salt,' John placed a shaker in the middle of the table.

Sam grabbed it, shook it over his potatoes, and shoveled it into his mouth, 'yeah, they do-' Sam spoke with a mouth full, 'thanks, Dad,'

Dean shuddered at the fake family act. Pathetic. Disgusting.

John sat on the other side of the small round broken legged table and watched his boys eat.

'Dad,' Sam slid the tray of potatoes in John's direction.

John turned to Dean, 'May I?'

Dean shrugged in aggravation, 'There's enough,' Dean shoved more in his mouth. He didn't want to be polite. His Dad didn't touch him, Azazel did. But it was John's skin. John's face. He couldn't look at him anymore. Not without thinking..  
No.. No, not again..  
He couldn't stop his mind from drifting back to that night-

"stop.."

"You're such a good boy, Dean.."

Dean stopped chewing the last of the food in his mouth,

"Open your mouth, son.."

He couldn't swallow the rest.

He stood abruptly from the table and spat his food in the sink behind him. He turned on the water, rinsed his mouth and headed for the garage.

'Dean?' John called to him, but Dean couldn't stop walking.

He walked straight past his car, out the front of the garage, and around the corner. He grabbed a metal pole, and started smashing the windows of a crashed up van Bobby had in his lot. He smashed all of them- and didn't stop swinging at the body of it until his wrists jarred. He threw the pole behind him, yelling incoherently at the pain. He slid his back down the metal of the garage wall and pulled his knee into his chest.

'We need to talk, Dean..' Dean jumped at the intrusion. John emerged from the garage and walked into Dean's view, resting his back against the busted up van.

Dean wiped his face on his hoodie, and started to pull grass out of the ground, not looking up or acknowledging his father.

'I know what he made me do to you..'  
Dean stopped and stared at the grass as John continued, 'I was there, and I couldn't protect you from him, I-' he choked on a sob, 'I'm so- so sorry. You can't begin to imagine the pain I feel for you.. How broken I am for you..'  
John looked to the sky and blinked his tears down his face, 'You don't have to talk to me again. You can live here. Just know that I love you, Dean. And that it wasn't me. You're my boy. And I couldn't..- Couldn't protect you from myself. I hate myself for something I did to you beyond my control,'

'I know, Dad..' Dean looked up and met John's glassy eyes, 'You were possessed. I don't blame you.. I don't. So quit talking about it, okay?'

John nodded, 'You're going to be a great man, Dean..' he stood and walked to the side of the garage, 'Do you want to talk living arrangements now, or later?'

Dean shrugged his shoulders, 'I go where Sammy goes. That's it.'

John gave Dean a watery smile before he walked back toward the house, leaving Dean by himself.

Dean grit his teeth until his jaw ached. He was lost.  
After sitting in a pool of his own thoughts, he rolled back his hoodie sleeve, picked up a shard of shattered glass and ran it over the back of his arm. He sighed as the shard slipped through his skin with ease, letting the heat and the sting of the wound relax his body into a numb abyss.

. . .

A couple of days passed with hardly a word spoken by Dean or John.

The three of them stayed at Bobby's until they got word that they could go and visit him. They piled in to John's truck and made for the hospital. John parked a fair way away, wary of the local hospital spotting his plates. They started walk toward the building.

Once inside, John pulled up a nurse who was walking past them doing the rounds of her patients, 'Bobby Singer?' John asked,

'Bobby Singer..' She repeated the name back to him, lifting the papers on her chart, scanning for a name, 'one moment, sir,' the nurse flitted to one of the computers at the desk in the middle of the room, 'floor 3, room 5,' she smiled softly at them, pointing the way to the lifts.

'I wonder what he told them,' John mused.

The lift pinged, and the doors opened. Their eyes scanned the room numbers, before they were greeted by another nurse. She was older than the other one,'May I help you boys?'

'Bobby Singer?' John asked again,

Her face dropped a little, 'Oh, yes. Follow me.'

'Is anything the matter?' John frowned at her reaction,

'Robert is in good health,' she announced, '-and he should be out by the end of the week..' she looked around, eyeing the other nurses before leaning in to John's personal space with a low voice, 'He's just a little eccentric, and in a bit of a bad mood.'

John chuckled, stepping past her into the room. He turned back to the door before he stepped into Bobby's view, 'You boys wait out here, i'll get you in a minute.' Dean and Sam nodded, taking up the seats by Bobby's door.

John wandered into the room and saw Bobby laying in bed, reading the newspaper. He was strapped to a heart monitor, and an IV. Nothing too serious, that was a relief.. 'Bobby,'

Bobby looked up, recognition spreading across his face. John couldn't pinpoint his mood, 'John,' Bobby nodded his head in a greeting, 'How are you?'

John took a seat next to the bed, 'I'm okay.'

'Where's the boys?' Bobby sat up a little turning his head to the door in expectation,

'They're waiting just outside,' John lowered his voice, 'I wanted to talk to you first.'

Bobby's eyes narrowed with suspicion, 'Alright..'

'What I said about Karen..,' John started,

Bobby tensed at her name, scrunching his newspaper in his fists.

'I am so sorry,' John continued, 'the bastard saw it all in my head.. I couldn't stop it,' John looked down at his hands, 'you didn't know, Bobby. We knew nothing compared to what we know now. I'm proof of that,' he smiled weakly, and met Bobby's glazed over eyes, 'If I could take her place..'

'John, shut up,' Bobby snapped, 'the past is past.'

John nodded. He knew that was all Bobby wanted to say on the matter.

Bobby folded his paper in his lap, 'how's Dean?'

John pressed his hands over his face and rubbed in frustration, 'He's not good,'

Bobby tilted his head in an understanding motion.

'I know he hates me.. And I know he feels he's trapped with me now. But the worst part is,' He bit his lip, and furrowed his brow, 'he throws it all aside, and comforts me. He tells me that it's going to be okay. He tells me that it wasn't my fault.'

Bobby tapped his hand on John's knee, 'you've got a couple of great kids, John.'

'I just wish I could make that pain go away.. I was there, Bobby.. Looking down at him.. smiling.. I couldn't stop that pain.'

Bobby shuddered, 'I wanna see the boys now.' he cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably.

John stood and strode to the door, 'boys, come on,'

Sam and Dean walked in fast. Sam reached up and gave Bobby a hug. Bobby wrapped his arms around him and squeezed hard, 'I don't usually say this to nine year old kids, but I owe you my life, Sam.' he let him go, and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, 'You sure are something,'

Sam beamed with pride.

Dean punched Sam lightly, 'You really are somethin', little brother,' Sam laughed and held his arm,

Dean turned back to Bobby, 'hey, Bobby,' Bobby turned his attention to Dean, 'What did you say to the doctors?' he asked suspiciously,

Bobby smiled, 'First I told them I fell off of the roof, and got my guts snagged in a loose bit of sheet metal.. But then they kept asking too many stupid questions, so I told them the truth.' Bobby grinned at the boy's reactions, 'They left me alone after that, the idjits!'

They all laughed together, picturing the mortified reactions of the doctors and nurses. The tension lifted.

But it didn't last.

. . .

After a few days, Bobby got to return home. John and the boys said their goodbyes and traveled back to their place, stopping past the store to grab some groceries. Sam went straight into his and Dean's room, and started his study on a few books that Bobby lent to him.  
Dean had arranged with Bobby to return in a week or two and continue his work on the impala.

John had taken to locking himself in his study, drinking himself under the table, not making it to bed half the time. On the nights that John did make it to bed, it was because of Dean.  
Dean would pick the lock and walk John to bed. John would sometimes cry, apologizing the whole way to his bedroom. Dean would just tell him it was fine and pat his back. Not that it made any difference to how they both felt.  
The days after, John would keep his distance entirely, only speaking a few words, (if any), to Dean each day, giving most of his attention to Sam, or his weapons inventory.

. . .

Months passed. It got worse.

Dean fell into a deep depression.

He stripped down for a shower and gazed at his body in the mirror. His eyes blurred across his torso.. Deep set scars followed the lines of his rib cage, and fresher deep red lacerations ran along the tops of his hips to his stomach. He shook his head at himself, bent down, and rummaged through the cupboard under the sink. He took out a silver flask, and finished it off in a few sips.  
He started the shower and stepped into the heat, scrunching his eyes in pain at the water running over his body. He carefully washed over his stomach, cleaning himself with a strong disinfectant.  
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the water run over his face, slowly mouthing the 'Happy Birthday' lyrics.

. . .

In time, things fell into a routine, as most things tend to do. John would leave for weeks at a time; hunting and money

laundering. And as Dean got older, sometimes John would assign some hunts to him.

10 years flew by.

Sam veered away from hunting and pursued study. His aim was to go to college by next year to become a lawyer. He kept it from John and Dean, until by accident, he left an enrollment form on the kitchen table.

John was in the middle of eating dinner with Dean, when he eyed off the paper. He picked it up and looked over the first few lines, before storming off to Sam's room. Dean shrugged, and kept eating. They've been fighting so often nowadays. It was nothing new.

John banged his fist on the door and opened it before Sam had a chance to answer, waving the paper in front of him, 'What the hell is this, Sammy?'

Sam ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, 'Look, Dad, I was going to tell you. I want to go to college, I just don't know which one i'm going to, yet. It's not a big deal.'

'So that makes it okay? I didn't even know you wanted to go!' he leant over Sam's desk, 'You can't just up and leave like that, this family needs you!'

Sam scoffed, 'Family? Dad, this hasn't been a family since.. Since Mom died!' he stood from his chair, and pushed past John, 'when do you ever ask me what I want?' he yelled, 'I don't want to do this anymore, I just want to be normal!'

'Where the hell do you think you're going, Sam?' John bellowed,

Sam locked eyes with Dean, before turning to John, 'Out. I can't deal with this crap anymore,'

John's arms flew up and he stormed into his study, slamming the door behind him.

Dean stood up and put his hand over the door that Sam was in the middle of opening, 'Why didn't you tell me, Sammy?'

Sam rolled his eyes, 'It's nothing! I'm just going to college, Dean!' Sam jerked at the door handle, forcing it open, with Dean in pursuit.

'You're leaving us, man! That 'ain't cool. You can't just ditch like that,'

Sam turned back, 'I've never fit in here, Dean..' Sam opened his car door, 'Besides, Dad has you; his perfect little soldier- At least he has someone he can be proud of.' Dean raised his eyebrow, questioning Sam's word. Sam rolled his eyes and continued, 'He takes you hunting, gives you whatever you want, and teaches you everything! And I don't go, because I don't fit in with that, and that is all Dad is,' he opened his arms at the house, 'It's all this is, Dean!'

Dean laughed darkly and shook his head, 'You're a fucking idiot,' he stood ominously close to Sam, lowering his voice, 'You don't see how much Dad favors you over me, because your head is so far up your ass. You're not the fuck up, I am. You shouldn't talk about shit you don't even get.'

Sam leant in toward Dean, 'No, Dean.. I get it,' he nodded condescendingly, 'I get it that you crave attention so much- you don't even have a second voice in your head. You just do whatever you're told. I get that. But that's not me.'

Dean recoiled his fist and punched Sam hard in the face.

Sam scoffed and turned toward his car, rolling his jaw in his hand.

'Where are you going?'

'Away, Dean..' Sam's voice cracked. He slipped into his seat and closed the door, 'I'd suggest you do the same, if I knew i'd get through to you.'

'Wait,-' Dean choked,

Sam started the engine and screeched down the street.

Dean's hands shook. His legs gave out and he fell to his knees. He ran his hands through his hair and gripped on, tugging

at it hard, 'Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..'

He picked himself up and walked back inside to see John pulling a jacket on, 'Where's your brother?' John growled,

Dean shrugged, gesturing toward the door, 'He just drove off..'

John grabbed the keys off of the counter, barged past Dean, and ran out the door.

Dean heard the truck start, the tires screech, and the engine noise disappear down the road as John chased after Sam.

He stood in the dark house, un-moving. Silence crept in. He stared blankly down the hallway.

The floodgates in his head had opened. Every single horrible thing in his life up until this point flashed through his mind, like a wave of pain.

It filled him.

It drowned him.

His breathing grew light and his heart started pumping hard. His lips parted and curled into an emotionless smile, as he stumbled blindly down the hallway.


	6. Escape

John finally caught up to Sam, after half an hour of his foot flat to the floor. He followed, flashing his lights for what felt like a 20 minute drive. Finally, some room to move. He swerved past Sam and stopped his truck sideways, cutting off the road. Sam slammed on his brakes, and cut his engine.

'What the hell are you doing?' John stepped out of his truck and started walking to Sam.

Sam got out of his car, 'What am I doing?!' he yelled, 'You're fucking crazy! Move your piece of crap out of the way!'

John stood by the front of Sam's car, 'You really want to do this, Sammy?'

'It's _Sam_ , Dad! I'm not a kid anymore!' he sighed and kicked his boot into the road, 'And yes.. More than anything.'

John nodded, wiping his hand over the hood of Sam's car, 'she needs a clean, if you're going to take her,'

Sam blinked in surprise, 'what?'

John held his hand to his forehead, 'I know I can't stop you from doing what you want. But you should at least come back and get your stuff. You should stay the night and work out what you want to do properly. Don't just take off like that.'

Sam's eyes flicked around confused, 'I think I'll stay at a motel tonight. I just need a break.'

'Are we that much of a problem in your life, Sam..' John shook his head, 'If you go tonight, you shouldn't come back.' John didn't wait for an answer. He turned, stepped back into his truck and drove away, leaving Sam in the middle of the street.

Sam huffed back to his car and sped off down the road. He didn't need them anymore. He was finally going to get away from John. He didn't need John or Dean to look out for him.

. . .

John finally pulled up at the house. All the lights were off. His instincts pricked up. He fumbled around the back of his seat and pulled out his shotgun and a torch. He pushed open the door and cleared the main room of the house.  
He was at the start of the hall, when he heard a groan from the bathroom. He crept the length of the hall, stopping at the open door. Dean was slumped against the wall with a bottle in his hand. White pills clung to the inside of the glass.  
John dropped his gun at the door, not quite comprehending the sight before him, 'Dean?'

Dean was startled by the noise. He looked up, connecting with John's eyes and his face contorted with silent pain, 'Dad..' he turned away, 'Dad, you weren't supposed to come home..'

John rushed into the room and dropped to his knees in front of Dean, 'Why?'

'..Because you had to go get Sam.. You had to go drive Sam to school,' Dean slurred,

'No, Dean, _why_?' he held Dean's face in his hands, 'Why are you doing this to yourself?-'

Dean strained his eyes and pulled at his hair, 'I can't think anymore!' he yelled, batting John's hands away, 'It doesn't _stop_!'

John pried the bottle out of Dean's fingers and held it up, 'What was in this?' he demanded,

Dean's eyes rolled around in his head, un-able to focus, 'stuff,'

'How much did you take, Dean?'

Dean's head rolled to the side, 'too much, I-I took too much-'

John grunted in frustration. He stood up and pulled Dean by the scruff of his jacket, dragging him to the bath. 'Alright,' he held him over it, 'start puking, Dean.'

Dean shook his head, pushing against the porcelain, 'don't touch me-,'

John gripped Dean's forehead to keep him steady and shoved his fingers down his throat. Dean closed his eyes and gagged.

" _suck on them for me.._ "

Dean's eyes flashed open and he bucked away from John's grip. John lost his balance and fell to the ground. 'Stay the hell away from me!' Dean screamed, curling himself up next to the tub, his whole body shaking,

'I'm trying to help you, damn it!' John scrambled back onto his feet. He held Dean forward and stuck his fingers down Dean's throat again, this time successful. John removed his fingers just as Dean started vomiting. He held his arm around Dean's shoulder to stop him from falling forward. Dean was gasping for air and convulsing with every vomit.

'There you go..' John rubbed Dean's back as he threw more concoction up. John reached for the phone in his pocket and dialed 911.

Dean's mind buzzed. It was like being in a dryer. Everything was hot, his stomach was doing flips. He couldn't focus. This was it- A final release.

John tapped at the side of Dean's face, 'stay with me, Dean,'

'Dean-'

' _dean_..'

John grabbed the bottle, lifted Dean over his shoulder and ran him out to the truck. Dean slumped in the seat, out cold. John took off down the road toward the hospital, keeping an eye out for the ambulance along the way.  
Half way there, he saw flashing lights ahead of him from the darkness. He pulled his car into the middle of the road and hailed down the EMTs.  
After a quick conversation, Dean was pulled out of the truck and into the ambulance, speeding toward the hospital..

Dean suddenly awoke. He held his arms in front of himself, defending against the figures he saw through the harsh lights above him.  
'Hold him down, hold him down!' an EMT pushed Dean's hand down to his side, causing Dean to panic and fight against the force.

' _Get the_..'

Everything faded to black.

. . .

Sam pulled up at a motel, half an hour out of the other side of town. He checked in paying cash, careful to not leave a trail. It was going to be okay. He made the big step. He did it. He was finally out. Alone.  
He cracked open a beer and put his feet up, clicking on the tv. It was a turning point. He was going to be okay. He could do this.

. . .

Dean stirred, wiping at his face. His arms felt like they weighed a tonne. His hand was deflected by an oxygen mask over his mouth. Disoriented, he tried to move it off, but a nurse held his hands down, 'Dean? Dean, it's very important that you listen to me. You're in a hospital,' She pulled Dean's hand down again, 'No, don't touch your face, honey. It's a mask helping you breathe, okay?'

Dean started to cry, his brain was still processing his situation. 'Where's- where's Bobby,' he gasped, 'I need Sam, where is he?'

The blurred outline of the nurse looked back at him, 'Do you remember what happened, Dean?'

He nodded drowsily and shut his eyes again. The motion sickness was too much. His body was so heavy.

He slipped out of consciousness again.

. . .

' _Dean_..' John's voice echoed, 'Dean, how are you feeling?'

'Mmh,' Dean turned his head slowly at his voice, spinning the room around with him, '..Dad?'

'The doctors said you almost killed yourself. You've been checking in and out for two days, now.'

Two days.

'..They wanted to know why you might have been feeling like this, and I couldn't tell them. I realized that I haven't cared for you in years,' John glanced around the small room, 'I just thought,' he cleared his throat, sucking his feelings back down, 'I thought you'd be better off finding your own way, you know? I was happy to guide you on our work.. But the emotional side is foreign to me. I've had no idea how to treat you since Azazel.. And that's the difference between you and Sam. It isn't that I don't care.. I-,'

John's speech was abruptly interrupted by a middle aged serious looking doctor. He walked into the room and lifted Dean's chart, 'Winchester.. Ah,' his eyes ran fast over the notes. He glared across at Dean, resting his hand on them, 'It looks like your father got to you just in time. If that cocktail was in your system full strength for any longer than it was, I'm afraid you would have suffered permanent kidney damage, that is.. If it didn't kill you,'  
He looked down at Dean hard, 'You'll experience an uncomfortable stomach for the next week or so. That will be the effect of the drugs that we couldn't get out of your system, the ones your stomach did absorb. More work for you, Dean. It looks like you don't get out of it that easy.'

Dean scowled at the floor. This doctor had a very condescending tone about him and it made him uncomfortable.

'What happens next, Doc?' John asked harshly, picking up on the tone as well,

'Simply this; Your son will be placed in suicide watch over the next couple of days, to be sure this won't happen again anytime soon. And depending on the outcome of that- and a psych test, we will either release him, or place him in an institution for his, and other's safety.' His eyes fell back onto the chart,  
'It's also written here, that you have numerous lacerations on your torso?' Dean watched him read with his finger trailing along the paper, 'Most are healed, and there also appears to be some back yard stitches in the past, too. May I suggest that you stop hacking at your flesh, Mr. Winchester. One day you will knick something..' he placed Dean's chart back on the bed, '..That cannot be un-knicked..' he turned and left the room.

John frowned, shaking the image out of his head, 'So, when are you ready to go?'

Dean leant forward, eager to skip the phych test. The room rolled in slow motion. Dean held the back of his hand over his mouth, holding the contents of his stomach down, '..Not yet.. Oh, God..' he held his forehead dropped back onto the pillow.

John stood out of his chair and strode out the door.

Dean blinked around the room. He had a private room all to himself. It was plain, nothing on the walls, except an abstract work of donated art that hung in the center of the blank creme colored wall.

John came back moments later with a wheelchair. He smiled deviously, raising his eyebrows.

Dean scoffed and shook his head, 'Dad.. If we do this, I'm gonna have to depend on you for a lot of crap, can you handle that?'

Seriousness spread across John's face, 'Of course I can, Dean. Just give me a chance to be the father you need me to be.' he took Dean's hand in both of his, 'I'm so sorry it had to come to this for me to see you properly, son. Now come on, you don't need this kind of help, and you know it. I promise.. I promise I won't let you fall again.'

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and flexed his feet, 'okay, let's bail.'

John held Dean's bicep, supporting him as he shuffled off of the bed and into the wheelchair. Dean clung on to John as the wheelchair rolled away from him,

'Oh-,' they laughed awkwardly,

'this might work better if the brakes were on,' John set the brakes, and Dean lowered himself into it.

John flicked them off again and they set off down the corridor to the lifts. Nurses eyed them as the lifts closed behind them, and one of them picked up the phone. 'crap,' John breathed. The lift started, and Dean gagged. John tapped his shoulder softly, 'we're almost there, buddy.'

Dean held his hand to his mouth, and swallowed down bile, 'I'm never going in one of these again..'

John snorted and wheeled Dean out of the lift.

'Excuse me..' John heard a nurse's voice behind him, but he didn't stop walking,

'Excuse me, Sir!' John picked up the pace. Dean chuckled and held his hand over his stomach, 'ow, ow..,'

'Excuse me!' the nurse stopped walking and stared after them,

'Bill me!' John called over his shoulder, wheeling Dean out just as Bobby pulled up, 'oh, perfect timing,'

Bobby stared back at John and Dean, 'What the hell?'

'Can you give us a ride, Bobby?' John asked as he held Dean's arm over his shoulders,

Bobby grabbed Dean's other arm, lifting him into the back seat of the car. They took off down the road.

'Thanks, Bobby.'

Bobby elbowed John in the arm, 'It's what I'm here for,' he adjusted the rear view mirror, 'and as for you, Dean,' he narrowed his eyes, 'Call me next time you want to do something stupid. I'm not dealing with your family if you die. No way..'

Dean lowered his eyes, nodding. A huge sense of guilt fell down onto his shoulders.

'By the way, John, where's Sam?'

John huffed in frustration, 'I haven't been able to get a hold of him. He's taken off for Stanford- and he's not leaving a paper trail. He's turned his phone off- I don't know what else to do. I'm not going after him. If he wants to leave this family, it's his own damn choice.'

'You gotta let him grow up, and make his own decisions. He's not a boy anymore, John.'

'No, Bobby. Sam gave up on us. He gave up on his mother. We haven't found it yet, and he knows that comes before anything. He knows how close we are to finding it, and he just left the party. He can stay gone.'

Bobby's eyes flicked to the mirror, pulling away from John's resentment to Sam. Dean was holding his hands to his mouth, 'Dean?' Bobby pulled over fast, jerking the car to a stop. Dean pulled open his door and started to vomit.

'This is going to be a long drive..' Bobby rolled his window down to get some air.

. . .

It did get better. It had been about a year since the trip home from the hospital. Dean was hunting almost every week now- mostly alone.  
John was obsessed with finding the Yellow Eyed Demon that destroyed their family, taking off across the country if there was a tiny chance that his findings led to his revenge.

Dean had just finished putting together some notes on a pin board, when John burst into his room, 'Dean,' he huffed, 'I think i've found a lead,' he left Dean's door open, inviting Dean out into the lounge whilst he continued to pack,

Dean stood and met him at the door, 'What is it?'

'I'm not too sure yet, but it's a strong one. Signs that point to Azazel. I need to go. Now.'

'Okay,' Dean picked up one of John's bags and walked him to his truck, 'what do I do?'

'Keep doing what you're doing, Dean. I'll be home tomorrow, alright?'

Dean held his wrist up and eyed the time, 'It's 8pm, you know that, right?'

John started his truck, 'I'll be home tomorrow, Dean,' John repeated, 'I'll keep in touch, keep your phone close.'

Dean nodded and tapped the side of John's truck with his knuckles, 'I'm here if you need me, dad.'

'I know.' John took off down the road.

. . .

The next morning, Dean wandered about the house, giving it a tidy up. Everything had been neglected for so long. There was dust and cracks in the walls. After he finished on the kitchen, he had a long hot shower, cleaning it as well to save time.

He made up a big breakfast, consisting of egg, bacon and sausage- Big enough for lunch and for when John returned.

Remembering that he still had some notes to write and go over, Dean took his food into his room and let the work take his mind off of the breakthrough with John.

Dean woke up at his desk, disorientated and dehydrated. He stumbled out to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He yawned, glancing up at the time.. 3am.. He walked through the dark house and peered into John's room. There was an empty bed.  
He stepped out and closed the door, taking a shaky breath in. Nothing's happened. John is probably sleeping in his truck somewhere. He probably just lost track of time.  
He should have called.. Maybe he'll call him.. He pulled out his phone and hesitated, resting his finger on the call button. He should call tomorrow, it was 3am, his Dad would be asleep. He's be furious if Dean woke him up. Dean walked over to the cupboard and pulled out his flask. He opened it and sniffed into it, 'old habits..,' he drained it, and walked back to bed.

The day after was the same.. Cleaning, flipping through old books, pacing. Dean had finished off the sausage, eggs and bacon for dinner. At least he didn't have to cook more food for himself. He lost count of how many time he'd called John, but he picked up his phone once more, and dialed John's number. Dean sighed as it rang out again. He sat on the couch. Not a minute later, he was back on his feet, pacing. He glanced up at the clock, 10pm.

'Damn it, Dad..' Dean scratched at the side of his head in frustration.

If John did find the demon, he would have called.. Unless he didn't have time to. What if it was a trap? What if he was in danger? What if he was dead already?

Dean shook the scenarios out of his head. He collected all of the valuable stuff in a bag, packed his clothes, packed weapons, and slipped on his boots and jacket. He locked up the house and sped down the street in his impala, not looking back. He placed a tape into the player and ran his fingers over his smirking mouth, 'road trip, Sammy..'


	7. Prologue

'D-dad?' Dean picked up his phone, glancing at the clock. It was late.

'Dean, I'll be home in 15 minutes. Wait at the door and unbolt it for me?'

'Yeah, see you soon.' Dean clambered out of bed, trying his best to not wake up his little brother.

'Dean?' Sam sat up, staring sleepily at Dean's silhouetted figure.

Trying, and failing.

'Yeah- Dad just called. I'm going to let him in, then i'll be back, okay?'

He didn't wait for Sam to respond. Making his way down the long hall, he itched at his stomach and yawned. He pulled his feet up on the couch and peered out the window, waiting for the flash of headlights.

He wasn't asleep for long. He woke up in a fluster, throwing himself off of the couch in response to the loud knocking on the door. He opened it fast, letting John inside.

John had just returned home from a hunt, once again on the look out for the Yellow Eyed Demon. He laid his bags down on the floor and stumbled to the kitchen for a drink.  
Dean perused him, ready for his next order.

John eyed his son from the rim of his scotch glass as his lips smacked at the side of it, 'Why are you still up?' he demanded gruffly,

Dean stood straighter, 'I-I was just wondering how it went,'

John squeezed his eyes shut, gulping down his drink, 'We're closer.' John held Dean's shoulder, shaking it roughly, 'go to bed, it's late.'

Nodding and walking back to the room, Dean narrowed his eyes. Something was off. Why would John say that he was closer, but not discuss the details? He usually explained everything to Dean. And "late?" please..  
Dean pulled the covers over himself and snuggled down into bed.

. . .

The next morning, Dean was woken up by Sam, pleading with him to make him some cereal, 'Dad told me to ask you, can you do it? Pleaaaase?'

Dean rolled his eyes and stomped out of the bedroom with Sam in pursuit, 'Aren't you old enough to do it yourself yet?'

'I know how,' Sam admitted, 'food just tastes better when you don't make it yourself.'

Dean raised his eyebrows, the witty kid had a good point, 'well, I'm up now,' he mumbled to himself.

He poured the cereal into a bowl, followed by the milk. In that moment, Sam slipped trying to get a seat and bumped into Dean's arm, knocking the milk out of his hand.

It splashed out of the bottle, onto the table and floor. Dean immediately picked it up, saving the last of it.

'Dean,' John strolled into the kitchen rubbing at his face, 'what are you doing?'

'It was an accident, it slipped-'

John held up his hand, 'You don't have to explain, it's alright,' he grabbed some paper towel out of the drawer and started to mop it up.

Dean held his trembling hands together, watching as his father cleaned up after him without yelling at him.

'There,' John smiled, throwing the towel into the trash, 'not a problem.'

Dean smiled back, fading into suspicion when John turned his back.

Dean sat at the table and ate some toast, watching John struggle to use his coffee machine. He was probably just tired. Finding the demon that killed his wife would be hard work to keep up with. 'I need to go into town today,' John interrupted Dean's thought, 'would you boys like to come? You can pick out whatever food you like,'

'Yeah!' Sam yelled, 'I'm going to get so many pop tarts, and more cereal, and-'

Dean sat there, not listening to Sam at all. Why was John being so.. Nice? John would have at least yelled at him for that milk drop.. And now whatever they wanted to eat? John would have left them at home, bringing back staples.

.

Sam piled groceries into the cart. John ruffled his hair, smiling down at him, 'Is that everything? What do you want, Dean?'

Dean shrugged his shoulders and pointed to his favorite cereal, 'That one is good, I guess,'

'This one?' John gestured to a box on the other side, one of the bigger boxes.

'Yeah,'

'Yeah, _what_?' John raised his eyebrow, staring Dean down.

'Yes, Sir.' Dean mechanically stood at attention, pushing his shoulders backwards and sticking his chin up.

John shook his head, glaring at the teenager, ' Yeah, _Dad_ , ' John winked, grinning deviously. 'Alright,' John knocked the box into the cart and continued down the isle.

Dean smirked. Maybe John was making up for being so strict. Maybe he was treating them both to show that he was sorry and that he loved them. Maybe he won big in a gamble. Whatever the reason, Dean was happy with the change.

On the way home, John handed Dean a box of cassettes, 'Pick one for me, dude.'  
Dean flicked through the box of tapes, eyeing off a Metallica one. He pulled it out of it's case and slid it into the tape player.

'Woah, nice choice!' John turned the stereo up and started singing. Dean's eyes widened and he turned to the back seat to Sam. His little brother raised an eyebrow at him, mouthing, ' _What's going on_?'

 _'I don't know_ ,' Dean mouthed back.

.

This terrific change in John's personality lasted for three weeks. Three weeks, until one day, John just snapped out of it.  
After a night of excessive drinking, John was slumping on the couch. Dean had finished cleaning the kitchen and was on his way to bed, when John called out to him.

Dean shook his head with disbelief, drunk again. Seriously, the man needed to take control of this part of his life, 'Do you need help up, Dad?' Dean stood in front of him, 'I don't know why you drink _that_ much.'

John gripped the collar of Dean's shirt, reefing his son down to his knees by the side of the couch, 'Are you telling me what I can and can't do?'

'N-no,' Dean pulled against John's hand, 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I-'

John pulled Dean closer, 'I know exactly what you meant, Dean. And I'm not going to tolerate you talking down to me like that.'

'It was an accident,' Dean held the hand that gripped him, 'I'm sorry, Dad,'

John released him, pushing him backwards onto the floor, 'Get out of my sight, Dean,' John shuffled on the couch, 'I relax the rules, and this is how you behave- like a jumped up little shit.'

Dean's heart sank into his stomach. He didn't want the old John back. He didn't want to be pushed into the dirt again. He pulled back the covers of his bed and flopped into bed.

'..Did Dad yell at you?' Sam whispered through the darkness,

'Yeah,'

'He hasn't done that in a while, what'd you do?'

'Go to sleep, Sammy.' Dean rolled away from Sam's bed and stared out the window through the crack in the curtains. The moonlight shone down through the trees, creating shadow patterns on the ground. Dean followed them with his eyes like a circuit track.

John stomped down the hallway toward their room.

Dean tightened his grip on his covers. John had a drunken habit of brooding on the things that annoyed him after the matter had ended.-

 _Once, Dean had asked for a glass of soda. At the time, it wasn't a big deal. John simply said no, explaining that it was unhealthy. That night, he stumbled into their room with a bag of sugar cubes, demanding that Dean eat at least ten of them, which he explained was the equivalent to a can of coke._

-John opened the door and sat on the edge of Dean's bed, 'You can't undermine me, Dean,' John started, 'I'm the boss. I'm the Dad. I'm the one who feeds you, clothes you, gives you anything and everything you need.'  
The room was silent for a moment before John continued, 'If you step out of line again, you'll be in for some serious boot camp, got it?'

Dean sniffed sharply.

'You're crying?' John snorted, belittling his son, 'grow up and take it like a man, Dean.'

John stood from the bed and left the room.

'..What'd you say to him?' Sam whispered,

'Go to sleep, Sam,' Dean hissed back, 'just butt out, alright?'

'alright, jeez,'

The next day, John had to go over to Bobby's to grab parts for his truck. Sam and Dean piled into the car, eager to see their uncle. It'd been ages since they were over there last.  
When they arrived, John handed Bobby a wad of money for the parts that he called about over the phone, 'That pile by the door is all of 'em, John,' Bobby gestured at the parts with a nod of his head, tucking the cash into his top pocket, 'i'll give you some help getting 'em on your truck,'

Dean overheard the conversation and straight away walked over to the parts, picking a few of them up in a hurry, 'It's alright, I can do it,' Dean needed to work hard today. He needed to prove his worth to John once more. He loaded them into the truck and hurried back, eyeing off the remaining two parts.

Bobby stretched out his arm, 'Wait, Dean, that's really heavy-'

Dean held his breath and picked up the hunk of metal, pulling his shoulder out in the process, 'I got it,' he grunted, 'It's not too bad,' he strained, waddling the part to the truck.

Bobby shook his head at Dean, who was leaning against the truck, rubbing at his shoulder, 'looks like he did his shoulder in,'

John rolled his eyes at Bobby, 'just let him go, he'll be alright,' John picked up the remaining piece and threw it lightly into the back of his truck, 'I'll see you,'

'Alright, you boys take care,'

'You too, Bobby,'

John piled Sam and Dean into the truck and took off toward home.  
He pulled up at the gas station by their house and picked up pies for dinner, handing them to Sam to carry into the house.

It was a slow, easy night.

Sam stood from the couch after watching a documentary on tigers, 'I'm going to go to bed,' he yawned, 'night, Dad,'

John nodded at Sam, 'night, Sammy,'

Dean followed, rolling his shoulder around, 'Night, Dad,'

John leant back in the couch, watching Dean walk up the hall and into his room. That shoulder was still hurting him. He sighed as he left the warmth of the couch.

Dean felt a hand on his bicep as he pulled the covers of his bed to the side, 'Mmm?'  
John's grip tightened, pulling Dean gently out of his bed. Dean stood back and let himself be guided out into the hallway.

John led Dean into his room, gesturing for Dean to sit on the bed as he closed the door behind them. Maybe John was going to tell him about his hunt. Maybe he had a job. Maybe-

'Take your shirt off,' John eyed Dean's surprised reaction, 'take it off, so I can get a look at that shoulder.'  
Dean watched John's reassuring smile and did as he was instructed, slipping off his faded Pink Floyd shirt with a pained effort.

John crawled up on the bed behind Dean, spreading his legs to either side of his son.

Rough hands came down on Dean's bare skin, causing him to shy away from the unfamiliar touch, 'just relax,' John sighed, feeling through Dean's muscles, 'you've pulled it, alright,' he held Dean's shoulder and kissed at his shoulder blade, 'it'll heal fast once we get you loosened up a bit,'

Dean snorted at the kiss, 'yeah, I'll be okay,' he started to move off of the bed, 'I just picked that slab up the wrong way, that's all,'

'Wait,' John ordered, 'I want to make you feel good,' he ran his hands up and down Dean's arms firmly, restraining the teenager from moving further away, 'don't you want to feel good?'

Dean hesitated, feeling the tension in the air.. If he didn't let John fix his arm, he might get offended or angry. It was just a massage. His shoulder hurt..

'Yeah,' Dean replied with reluctance, 'I'm just really tired,'

'That's alright,' John assured, 'you don't have to do anything at all, just let me make you feel good,' John helped Dean slide back onto the bed, pulling him in close. He moved his hands along Dean's shoulder blades and collar bones in a circular motion, letting Dean's body rock against his swelling cock.  
After a while, he started to move with Dean, pressing himself into the small of his back.  
He leaned in close, kissing under Dean's ear, 'how does that feel, baby?'

Dean tensed up, feeling the bulge against his lower back, 'It feels okay now,' his voice trembled, 'I think I want to go to bed,'

'No, we're not done yet.' John's tone was sharp and commanding.  
Dean froze on the spot, obeying once more.  
John pressed his mouth against Dean's neck, '..Do you touch yourself?' his voice was raspy and dark, 'It's healthy to clean the pipes,' his hand slipped down his son's chest. He let his fingers dance along Dean's waist, 'It relaxes the muscles, did you know that?'

'no,' Dean whispered, confused, 'I need to go to bed now,'

John held Dean's torso, sniffing into his neck deeply, 'I can do it for you,' he slipped his hand down the front of Dean's pants, 'I will show you how,' John took a hold of Dean's flaccid dick and started jerking him off.

Dean gasped and yelped, squirming out of John's grip, and onto the floor. He fumbled at the door and pulled it open, 'I need to go-' Dean's heart pounded in his chest as he sped up the hallway. That was too close. That was weird. That felt disgusting.

'Dean,' John grabbed Dean's wrist as he was almost back to his bed. Dean jumped at the touch and pulled at his arm. John started to walk him back into the hallway, pulling against Dean's protesting struggle, ' _don't wake your brother,_ '

Dean's face crumpled as he let himself be walked back to John's room, the safety of his bed was just out of reach, 'I don't want to,' he choked, 'it's weird,'

'Sh!' John walked Dean back down the hall, and into his room, closing the door behind them once more.

John rubbed at his crotch, keeping himself erect, 'Dean, this is going to feel really good, okay?' he watched on as Dean backed himself into the corner of the room. John raised his eyebrow, 'don't you trust me, Dean?'

'I don't want to,' Dean repeated, curling himself away from his father stepping toward him, 'I don't want to,' Dean coughed, trying to calm himself enough to be heard. John grabbed at his wrist again, pulling him toward his bed. Dean dropped to his knees, 'I don't want to, I don't want to,' Dean's breathing turned into uncontrollable sobbing out of nowhere.  
John left Dean on the floor and walked out of the room without a word. ' _Mmh-mmh-, mmh_ -' Dean held his hand over his mouth, embarrassed at the noise he was making.

Moments later, John entered the room holding a glass and a bottle of scotch, 'I want this to be a good experience for you, Dean,' John poured a nip into the glass and placed it into Dean's shaking hands, 'I want you to feel good,'

the teenager tipped the glass, emptying the contents into his mouth.

John poured Dean a bigger drink, 'we have all night, okay?' he rubbed at his son's shoulder, 'but I want you to know that it's going to happen either way, alright?'

Dean glugged down the second drink with a huff. This was not happening. It was some fucked up dream. It was a putrid rotten joke. It wasn't real. It can't be true- Dean glared up at John, 'I'm not doing anything,'

John smiled down at Dean, spit popping between his teeth, 'I told you,' he took Dean's glass out of his hand, pulled him onto the bed and pushed his way on top of him, 'all you gotta do is lay back and relax,' he kissed down Dean's throat, and up the side of his neck, pushing, feeling, hands roaming..

Dean grunted and pushed back, 'get off of me!'

John grinded in between Dean's legs, pulling at his hair, licking along his collar bone..

Dean pulled his fist back and punched John as hard as he could in the throat. John leant back on his knees, gasping over Dean's small frame. Dean twisted around and pushed off of the bed, but his father pressed his body weight over the top of him, flattening him face down into the stained mattress.

'Dean,' John hissed into his ear, 'I've been understanding and accepting up until- this point-,' he coughed, clearing his throat, 'you could have had it so easy,' he started tugging at Dean's pajama pants, 'you could have enjoyed it, I gave you the chance,'

Dean gasped against the mattress, completely pinned down, ' _fuck you_ -' he strained, ' _fuck off_ -'

A gasp. A little distraction. It wasn't much, but he heard it. John turned toward the door, eyeing Sammy. Sam stood there, mouth open, eyes unblinking, trying to process the image in front of him.

'Sammy,' John raised his voice, 'What do you think you're doing out of bed?' John stepped off of Dean and grabbed Sam by the bicep, walking him back to bed, 'How many times do I have to tell you, once you're in bed, you _stay_ there?'

'What are you doing to Dean?'

John glared down at Sam in frustration, 'fixing his shoulder, stay in bed.' John slammed Sam's door and stomped back down the hall.

Sam climbed out of bed and pressed his ear to the wall, holding his breath in intervals so that he could hear.

Dean held his knees to his chest, laying against his father's head board.

John stalked into the room, grabbed Dean by his ankle, and pulled him into the middle of the bed. 'Stop,' Dean yelped, 'I don't want to-,'

'You'll do whatever the fuck I tell you to do,' John growled. He pulled Dean's pants down to his feet with intent on using them as a bondage to stop him from kicking, and lifted his legs into his chest, climbing into position and ignoring his son's pleas as he thrashed underneath him.  
Pulling his cock out of his boxers, he gave it a few hard strokes, before pushing into Dean's unprepared virgin ass. Dean squealed in agony, desperately attempting to throw his father off of his body.

But to no avail. John held Dean's wrists in a vice grip above his head, pumping mercilessly into Dean's raw body. He moaned against Dean's neck, licking and kissing his way through Dean's innocence.

Dean's strained cries fell onto deaf ears. 'please,' he hitched, 'plea-se, sto- stop,'

'You're-,' _pump_ 'So tight-,' _pump_ 'Oh, Dean-,' _pump_ 'I'm gonna-,'

John tore his way into Dean, as deep as he could go, moaning into Dean's mouth. He released his seed into his son's ass, 'Oh-,' kissing and sucking on Dean's lips.

John collapsed into Dean, not pulling out, not releasing Dean's hands. He stayed on top until his cock slipped out of Dean, too exhausted to carry on.

Dean dragged himself out from underneath his father, falling to his knees on the carpet, winded and gasping for air.

'Dean,'

he turned his head to the sound of his name, flinching when his clothes hit the side of his face.

'Get dressed.' John ordered, his voice ice cold, 'Go to bed.'

Dean's body shook as he pulled his clothes back on. He opened his mouth, unable to breathe out of his fluid filled nose. He was numb in the mind, but for his body.. Pain ran through every limb. Every crease in his skin. His body throbbed. It was exhausted beyond his limit.

He staggered down the hallway in utter defeat.

'Dean?' Sam rolled over in his bed as he heard Dean climb into his, 'Are you okay? Is your shoulder okay?'

Dean clenched his teeth as he tried to move his body into a comfortable position, giving up quickly as he triggered a sore spot. He stared out the window. The shadow patterns on the ground.. Looked like a labyrinth. He was trapped..


End file.
